"Well, that's about it as far as my closet skeletons are concerned. You know all the other ones anyway," Natasha said, and the smile she gave him at that was entirely real. It was something of a relief, really, it was the difference between being with someone - someones who knew her, who understood the work she'd done to transition from the wild thing she'd been once to the woman she'd grown into being. There were no disclaimers she had to give to James and Clint, there was no shadowed half-worry that they were making a choice without having all the information available about the sort of person they were really choosing. It was nice, to feel known.
And to be loved anyway. Not in spite of it, not because of it, just... as part of the package, part of what made her up. It was a good feeling. Bloody hands and all.
It was nice to think there was security in that, too. That they were strong enough that they could talk about the hard things without having to worry it might mean the end, or even a fight, really. It was one of the things she liked most about James, that he was able to tell when something was about him, and when something wasn't. His fingers found a spot that made her shiver pleasantly, another smile lighting her face. "Your turn, I think. What's on your mind lately? Besides when we can do it again. I still need a few minutes."